Poem: November by Cazenovia Creek by Ruth Thompson

By Ruth ThompsonClear sky, flying clouds. Elsewherea terrible storm – tornadosin the southeast, hail in the Dakotas; in Buffalo, high winds. But here along the creek,in thin late-afternoon sun,in Arleen’s woods,only the sound of the river,wind held in the cuppedhands of trees.Molasses sunlight, a tangof darkness. The afternoondistilling. Over the creek, one last dragonfly.Leaf by leaf, stem by stem, wingby wing, light releases the thing it holds. Releasesthe cups of my lifted hands –spotted, knot-boned, oddas an old branch. Thumb jointslike dragonflies.A few late berries, a few asters, and this bush with the lightbehind it: nests of whitish fluff,fibrous, coherent –within each, a single dark seed.RUTH THOMPSON will read from and sign copies of her new collection of poems “Woman with Crows” (Word Press) at 7 p.m. Oct. 24 at Talking Leaves Books, 3158 Main St. A California-educated former English professor, college dean and yoga instructor, she divides her time between Hilo, Hawaii, and Colden, where she is the publisher of Saddle Road Press.